A Wee Dig

It is six thirty on the twenty-fourth of October, almost November, and I am sitting outside on my back deck sipping a coffee and thinking about sweating. The current temperature is 74 (feels like 77 with humidity factored in). I should be honest and mention that it will rain all today (I hope, I am tired of stinking from being a good citizen and not showering) and tomorrow and be bitterly cold this weekend, but I am a poet and the truth, according to such luminous authorities as Plato, is not something with which I am familiar. Though I would suggest my status as a poet ensures I am familiar with the created, manufactured, socially constructed nature of all things we call truth, and can, therefore, reconstruct the social construction. It really is gorgeous out here this morning though.

I went to a talk about a PhD program here at State last night. It was an interesting talk, but I am not sure that program is something that would attract me, or match my interests. I do wish the MFA alone would satisfy my needs for employment, but there are too many poets and not enough jobs that actually pay.

Last night, my poetry class let out early so we could go attend the poetry reading by a candidate for the new poetry teaching position at State read. God, I love that horrible sentence, can you understand what I said, cause I ain't sure I can. Any way, Erin Belieu read, and so I was there listening. She is not a great reader, but she is better than some I have heard. The event was well attended, far better than any event like this at the U of A. Maybe because it was held in the evening? I would hate to suggest that Americans have a greater fondness for literature and poetry than Canadians.

I need to get going on my busy day, I suppose, but I have enjoyed sitting outside in November (almost) sipping my coffee and enjoying the dark, though some stars are visible in the sky so not too many clouds have rushed in to begin the rain storm the weatherman has promised.